


Baby, Could You Blow My Heart Up?

by ensign_amy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensign_amy/pseuds/ensign_amy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After taking his virginity, Meg calls Cas hoping she'll get a repeat performance of their previous and only encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Could You Blow My Heart Up?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ninkasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninkasa/gifts).



> Wrote this back in 2010. Prompt was Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars, except my recipient's current tastes (ie, Gaga and Ellie Goulding) managed to sneak in there as well. Hoping she won't mind too much.

“What is this about, Meg?”

With the way he was glaring at her, he was likely demanding to know. Not like he was in any position for that, when she was the one pushing those stupid coats off his shoulders and forcing him to sit down in the middle of the fairly crowded nightclub.

That under no circumstances should any cloud-hopper be present in. It was tiny, but Meg took any victory she could get.

“I’d asked you not to call me,” he said bluntly, wide and still ridiculously innocent blue eyes fixed on her as she straddled his lap.

“Which is exactly why I programmed your number into my phone as soon as you succumbed to your sex coma,” Meg said brightly. “And look! It worked.”

He didn’t seem all that concerned that she was straddling him and looking at him like a piece of meat – which at the moment, yeah. He kinda was, because holy fucking burning fires of the ifrit, he might’ve looked naive, but the things they’d done were anything but. Meg was determined to remind him of that.

Not that she had to try very hard with the way she was dressed, which by the way, was not for him. She looked good in a silver halter was all – she’d been planning to get laid of course, but there was no sense in driving a Ford when the Ferrari was parked a phone call away.

She leaned in forward to nip at his ear and relished in the shiver it sent down his spine. At least his meatsuit had needs he couldn’t control; otherwise she probably wouldn’t be so lucky. Or getting lucky, for that matter.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to assume you’ve never had a lap dance before, huh Clarence?” she purred, gladly pinning him back down when he fidgeted.

“We had sexual relations once,” he said, gaze nothing but hateful. “It won’t happen again.”

It had to be the voice, she decided. Yeah, he was easy to look at, but he was talking about hot, sweaty, break-the-furniture sex like it was a fucking lunch date. In some ways, Meg really wished he were a demon. She wondered if she could work on that.

Undeterred, she began rolling her hips against his in tune to the beat of the music, humming against his throat and unable to resist marking him there. That’d draw a few questions from Deano if angels didn’t heal so goddamn quick.

“Promises, promises,” she replied.

His hands went to her hips when she ground lightly against him and she smirked, dragging his hands away and holding them up above their heads. “Ah, ah – no touching,” she said.

Meg had to roll her eyes – epic angel frown was epic. “I don’t have…”

She made a point to rub her body along his lengthwise, grinning when she felt hardening flesh straining against his trousers. “You I love it when you make half-assed excuses.”

Because honestly, if he’d wanted to get up and leave, there was nothing stopping him from bucking her off – boy was strong enough to make the proverbial ox want to give up and call it a day, and she actually knew. Best two days she’d ever spent being thrown around a motel room.

Deciding to take a chance, she kept her hips moving, but slowly brought his hands down to rest at his sides and uncurled her fingers from his. He almost looked emotionally bereft when she swung her leg around and stood up leaving his lap empty. She would’ve laughed, except the idea of an angel in mid-fall and fighting his own arousal tooth and nail was unbearably hot.

Grinning, she repositioned herself between his legs so she was leaning backwards against him and undulating, supporting herself with one hand on his shoulder. His own hips were even starting to pick up the rhythm and she could feel his erection against her backside. Meg chuckled when she felt him swallow a groan.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” she slurred.

It was her turn to push down the urge to gasp when she felt his lips on her ear. “I thought there was to be no touching.”

His tone had a certain bite to it as if he were challenging her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she saw the same smirk on his face she’d seen only once before and that was when he’d been holding her down and forcing orgasms out of her. Angels were fucking kinky bastards if their mating cycle were triggered just right.

“I get to touch,” she pointed out. “You don’t unless I say so.”

Just to further illustrate her point, she grabbed his hand and ran it up over her scarred belly, pushing his fingers under her top and over where he’d marked her before.

He didn’t seem to like that one little bit. Meg howled with laughter as insistent hands seized her hips, spun her around, and yanked her forward onto his lap again. The throb of the music drowned out all sound, but his eyes never left hers, frightened, angry, and surprised at himself all at the same time.

“Was that something you didn’t want me to know?” she taunted, grinding slowly into him.

Her eyes were on his lips, which were slightly parted and moist, and oh so very bitable. She knew exactly what that mouth was capable of – poison, wine, and everything in between. “If I didn’t have a goal in mind, I’d be keen on figuring out what else you’d be willing to let me get away with,” she said in a low voice, nosing at the spot behind his jaw.

“You don’t know everything, Meg.”

“I know everything you don’t want me to, sweetpea,” she replied flicking her tongue over the skin of his neck. “Every rebellious darkside thought in that pretty melon you nicked offa some poor little Christian boy. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say he kinda loves it too.”

Her gaze flickered down to where his hand was trailing up her belly and under her top again, teasing over the scar. The realization caused him to drop his hand to his side again – problem was, the fingers of the other hand were still digging into her hip.

In retrospect, going in for a kiss probably wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. The hand that he’d removed from her belly promptly clamped onto her throat, squeezing hard and pushing them apart. From zero to screwed in point-five seconds, and hell if it wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

Not that she was interested in letting him know anytime soon, so she settled with a cocky smile and laugh which only pissed him off further. “Oh, that boy is a monster!” she said, all bravado. “Normally, mixed signals only…”

He painfully turned her head to the side, bringing his lips to the side of her head, completely predatory in every way. Which was exactly what Meg wanted to see, except she’d been hoping for a more naked context.

“You seem to be under the impression that I am at your mercy,” he growled, words vibrating against her skin. “I’m not.”

Meg couldn’t help the pleased hum, even when the fingers around her throat came up to clench painfully around her jaw. “But them hands is supposed to be for healin’!” she chided. “Not bruising.”

There was a flicker of some stunted emotion in his expression, but whether it was guilt or reluctance, Meg would never know. “I allowed you to live out of reciprocity,” he replied. “It will not happen again. Should you contact me, I will…”

“Operative word there, honey,” Meg breathed, cupping him between the legs and earning herself a surprised grunt. “You always will, because while you say whatever you need to, someone in there definitely wants it.”

Another painful wrenching of the neck. With the way he was yanking, she was probably lucky he hadn’t decided to twist her head off like in bad prime time television. Not that she watched television. Much.

“If you contact me again,” he repeated, teeth nipping painfully at her neck. “I will remind you why your kind fears us.

He didn’t so much as turn her head as he dragged it into position to face him again, fingers leaving marks in her throat that her meatsuit would probably feel for ages. It was too dark in the building to see, but she had a feeling it was probably a good thing she couldn’t see how blown his pupils were.

“It would serve you well to remember that in the future,” he said simply.

And then she simply found herself being dropped off to the side, her backside bouncing uncomfortably on the stuffed leather before she realized he’d even flown off.

Nothing left to suggest he was even there except the throb in her neck and the throb of the music.


End file.
